The Future of Future by Archy12
by AgeOfEdward
Summary: Man has always been in the quest for perfection. Isabella Swan has found the key, but then Edward appears, claiming to be from the future and asking her to destroy her discovery. What should she do?


Title of Story: The Future of Future

Word Count: 9,764

Type of Edward: Future Edward

Category: YA

Story Summary: Man has always been in the quest for perfection. Isabella Swan has found the key, but then Edward appears, claiming to be from the future and asking her to destroy her discovery. What should she do?

Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Future of Future

2031

"…no doubt we are on the verge of a breakthrough. The whole world is waiting for Dr. Isabella Swan to reveal her latest discovery, one that will completely transform the future of mankind. But where is Ms. Swan? Angela Webber, her representative in all matters official, has stated that the reclusive scientist will come forward when she is ready. Until then, we will have to be patient. This is Lauren Wills, bringing the latest news to you from ABC. We will be back after a short commercial break, with the other major news story of the night—the possibility of time travel…"

Isabella Swan switched off the passport-size monitor of her phone and smiled grimly. She was not one to waste her time on watching either soap operas or sports, but she did like to keep up with the news. Especially news related to the world of science and technology, and definitely when it was connected with her work. Of course people were curious. However much the masses remained uninterested in the work of prize-winning scientists in general, _this_ was something everyone wanted to know about. The mere idea of achieving god-like perfection while being a human being was enough to tickle the curiosity of the most indifferent of the common multitude.

Isabella stretched back in her recliner, lifting her arms and working out the stress in her shoulders. In the last ten years the science of genetics had progressed in leaps and bounds. Well, so had other fields, but Isabella was more concerned with her specialty, naturally. Also, she had a healthy contempt for some of the more esoteric research going on in the world. For example, creating a Harry Potter style invisibility cloak—bah, they had been trying to do that for years, and all they had managed until then was to make people's hair vanish. She had seen one of the so-called presentations, and the sight of a man without a hair on his head and his arms, and the absence of eyebrows and eyelashes had her shuddering with distaste. Of course there were some who had made a joke of it, asking whether the subject could take his pants off so they could check if his pubic hair had become invisible too. Not Isabella, of course—she was much too serious to find any sort of hilarity in the crude humor. Neither did she care for the thinly veiled barbs when her colleagues or acquaintances asked her when she was likely to do some _personal_ research in genetics. Why did people have to be so narrow-minded? Couldn't a single woman of thirty-two be happy with her work, her family and her own company? Some people just couldn't move with time, she supposed, but were stuck in an earlier era when it was necessary for woman to get married and produce babies to be satisfied with life. Thank you very much, but she was perfectly content the way she was. At least her parents were supportive of her decision.

Charles and Renee Swan were never married because they did not deem it necessary. Instead they opted for an open relationship that gave them the required space while they focused on their career. Both of them were doctors—stalwarts in their respective fields really—and had agreed that marriage brought too many expectations with it, so they were fine without it. Isabella had never felt there was anything strange in spending her time with parents who lived in the same city but different houses. She was loved, and grew up with the understanding that being partners meant caring for each-other and not being judgmental. Now that she was a mature, independent woman herself, she realized that she wasn't against sharing her life with a man: she had not just met anyone who fit the bill. Her formidable intellect scared away some of the would-be suitors, and her fame as a scientist did the rest.

The room in which Isabella was resting was a part of a huge and very prestigious lab, funded and protected by the United States government. Only those who had proved themselves to be worthy were invited to join the team that ran the place, be it in administration or analysis, and utmost secrecy was maintained in all departments. The common people did not even know the correct name of the institute, so they simply called it The Lab. Isabella, whose originality had shone through her doctoral thesis, had been snapped up by The Lab even before she had formally received her degree. Since then she had been working ceaselessly towards one goal—discovering and modifying the gene that caused anomalies in the human body, be it inside or outside. It was a cause dear to her heart, for she had seen Alice Whitlock, her best friend since childhood, suffer from a partial paralysis of the face that had frozen her right half in an everlasting grimace. In school she had been taunted by her peers; in college she had been stared at impolitely. Nobody seemed to understand the sweet girl with a gentle heart because her countenance put them off. It affected her speech too, of course, and that led to multiple problems in her daily life. Having a conversation on the phone was quite a challenge. From a curious—"Are you a foreigner?"—to the extremely rude—"Speak up, can't you?"—Alice had heard it all.

Alice was a brave girl, and with Isabella constantly by her side she had been able to laugh off the problems she faced in communicating with other people. But the breaking point came when she overheard her own parents discussing her 'pathetic life' and how useless it was for her to continue with it. The eighteen year-old girl, who had until then dreamt of being a TV producer and believed that her parents were proud of her excellent grades and cheerful attitude, gave up that night. After writing a tearful mail to her best friend and another, very brief and stoic one to her parents, she went into her balcony and jumped to her death.

Isabella, who had until then wanted to be a neurosurgeon, changed her goal the next day. At Alice's funeral service, she did not cry, but gave a thin-lipped smile to her parents who were weeping openly. The glare she fixed them with told them that she knew what had caused Alice to take her life. When Alice's mother tried to make her a partner in her grief, Isabella looked her in the eye and stated clearly that she was not going to waste her time grieving. Rather, she would do something that would prevent others who suffered in a similar way from taking their life.

"Not everybody has parents as supportive as you have been to her, Mrs. Whitlock," she ground out acerbically, her tone and her eyes giving the exact opposite message to her words. Alice's mother shut up immediately. That was their last conversation.

Isabella looked around the almost Spartan room in its simplicity and smiled. She had a home of course, but she seldom visited it. Her research had taken over her life to the fullest extent, and she had a couch to sleep when she allowed herself to, and a bathroom to shower when she needed it. There was a small closet where she kept a few pairs of her clothes, mostly in black and white. In the bottom shelf there were two pairs of comfortable shoes.

Her smile however had nothing to do with the room or her life inside it. It was a smile of quiet triumph, for her hard work of years had finally paid off. She had everything she needed—all the experiments and results tabled, and all the findings documented. Tomorrow she would inform Alec Marsh, the director of the institute, that she was ready. They would call a press conference and announce the news on radio and TV all over the world. It would take time to bring her discovery and modification to application of course, but with the government behind them, it wouldn't take too long for the benefits to reach the public. She smiled again, imagining a world free of disease and deformity of any kind. Well, there would be time enough to discuss the effects of her work. Meanwhile, she was going to take a well-earned nap before the day began.

She kicked off her shoes, took off her black skirt and white blouse, and her plain white bra. From the closet she pulled out an old and comfortable t-shirt and slipped it on. After placing her discarded clothes in a laundry basket and her shoes in the proper shelf, she took out a soft warm blanket and lay down on the wide couch with a sigh. The room temperature was adjustable, but she liked the weight of the blanket. As soon as she covered herself with it, she fell into a deep sleep.

Sometime later she was pulled out of it by an unexpected sound. As she blinked her eyes open, she stared in disbelief. A man was sitting at her table, his fingers flying on the keyboard of her sleek black laptop. As she sat up and threw off the blanket, he shut the machine and rotated the chair to face her, and a gasp of astonishment escaped her lips. She had never seen such perfection in a human being.

The stranger did not react, but sat still as a statue, silently studying her even as she studied him. He was very fair, with eyes that seemed to glow in the milky night-light of the room. They were green perhaps, or grey—it was hard to say in the dim light. His skin was smooth and flawless, his nose perfectly straight, and his lips bow-shaped, full and light red. He had a high forehead, medium-length hair that seemed insistent on springing back from their neat style, and nicely-shaped ears. Her eyes travelled lower and took into account his wide shoulders, muscular chest and long hands, followed by legs that were stretched out in front of him and crossed gracefully at the ankles. He looked quite at ease with her perusal, but also fascinated…with her! Isabella swallowed as she noticed him check her out from head to toe, even though his gaze had not an iota of lust in it. Rather it studied her as one would study a piece of art created by a master—with awe and appreciation. And then his lips curved up in a warm smile, and she felt that she was drowning in that warmth.

"Hello, Isabella. I have been looking for you for a long time."

His voice was soft as velvet, with a pleasant timbre. Isabella shivered, and the fine hair on her arms stood up in response. Somewhere inside her she knew that she should be suspicious of this man who had appeared out of thin air in her office—in fact, she should already have called for the security. But at that instant she wanted to know more about him, give him a chance to explain.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out as a breathy whisper, which was unusual for her. She drew her legs close and wound her arms around them. Then she recalled that she was wearing only her panties and hastily pulled up the blanket up to her waist. The man seemed completely unaffected.

"Oh, I am sorry— I should have introduced myself first, shouldn't I?" He smiled again, and she felt her senses say goodbye. How _could_ he influence her like that? The sensation in her stomach vaguely reminded her of the occasion when she was thirteen and had gone to a rock concert with her mother and Alice. The energy swirling around had been awesome, and the band's performance had produced the exact same butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling that she was experiencing now. She tried to concentrate on his words.

"My name is Edward Masen. I am a time-traveler from the year Two Thousand and Eighty Two—"

Isabella, who had been taught never to interrupt another person while speaking, felt her jaw drop in astonishment. "What?" she croaked, her mouth suddenly dry.

"It is difficult to believe, I agree," he said without taking offence. He also leant towards her a little, which gave her a tantalizing glimpse of his chest hair through the top two open buttons of his white shirt. She absently thought that their color choices matched, for his long legs were encased in black trousers. Shiny black shoes completed his ensemble. He looked very professional, making her feel rather conscious in her old dark grey t-shirt.

"You are a renowned scientist though: surely you are aware of the mechanics of time-travel, at least in theory? Even in the present time much progress has been made in that field, though it will still take them almost eight more years to successfully send the first subject—a robotic cat, by the way—across time and into the past. It landed on the stage of a crowded theatre where a play titled 'Equus' was being performed. The lead actor was a smart guy, though. He didn't turn a hair at the unscheduled visitor; instead he patted it sweetly and called it his feline friend."

"Sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes," he added when she kept on staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "Anyway, I am here to ask you for a favor, a very great favor."

She nodded in reply, willing to do anything for him. The right corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile as if he knew what she was thinking of. He took a deep breath as if preparing for a refusal anyway.

"Isabella Swan," he said very clearly and firmly, "I request you to delete your work—all of it—right now."

A bucket of cold water thrown upon a sleeping person wouldn't have shocked them so much as Edward's request shocked Isabella. It also jolted her into action. She jumped out of her makeshift bed without caring that her legs were bare, yanked open the small wardrobe and pulled out some jeans and a shirt, and changed out of her t-shirt right in front of him. Well, technically speaking she had her back to him the whole time, but she was sure she heard a quiet groan when she adjusted her bra. However, when she turned around she found him as cool and composed as before, even a little amused as if he knew what her next move would be.

"You are going to call the security, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow as if daring her to contradict him. But why would she—just because his beauty blinded her?

"Of course I am," she answered proudly, her hand reaching out for the bright red button on her desk. But before she could touch it, his hand stayed hers.

"Aren't you going to ask the reason for my request at least?" There was no pressure in his grasp, yet she found herself unable to free her hand. Or maybe she did not want to. His hand was large and strong and warm, and he was looking at her with such intensity. Still, she somehow managed to keep her wits about her.

"What's there to ask?" she scoffed. "You are obviously working for someone who has an ulterior motive in not letting me go public with my discovery, or you are a researcher yourself—and bent upon being the first one to showcase your work, which must be lagging behind—"

He looked at her seriously. "Isabella, did you not listen to me? I am from another time—much ahead of yours, and all this—what is present to you, is a slice of history to me. You are right that I am a researcher, but my field is time-travel, not genetics."

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, please. Time-travel! It is as much a reality as humans becoming immortal—"

"It has almost become a possibility in my time," he said gravely. "Unfortunately, it has also had repercussions nobody had ever thought of. Anyway, I realize now that asking you to give up your whole work is unfair, especially when I have not given you any proof of what it will—well, it has already led to—in the future. Therefore, I invite you to take a trip with me into _my_ present, fifty one years from yours. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?" He tugged at her hand slightly, but she did not move. Even though her heart vouched for his sincerity, she could not let go of her doubts.

"And how do you know that you will not just dump me in some contraption that will keep me imprisoned while you destroy my work, or worse—copy it?" She felt silly even as she voiced the question, but he did not laugh. Instead he squeezed her hand in a comforting manner.

"I could already have done either of these, had I wanted to, you know," he said softly. "You thought I was working for someone who does not want you to go public, but the truth is—it is _you_ who are working for that person. Alec Marsh—he is going to prevent you from speaking at that press conference, by getting you killed if required to shut you up. That is why we do not have much time to act."

Isabella was shocked beyond anything she had ever imagined this time. "Alec? Getting me killed? Impossible! He is the sweetest boss I have ever encountered, more like a benevolent uncle than a superior, really. He has always encouraged me to go ahead with my experiments and my ideas, however nonsensical they might have sounded to other people. He wouldn't harm a hair on my head!"

Edward looked puzzled. "What's your hair to do with any of this—pretty though it is?" Isabella would have reprimanded him for making a silly joke while they were discussing a serious matter, but he sounded completely sincere. She chose to ignore his compliment though it gave her a thrill, instead tying her hair quickly into a neat bun.

"It is an expression, not to be taken literally," she explained when he kept on waiting for her to say something, head cocked to the right.

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Somehow most of these expressions have died over the years. Where I am from, people just don't use them. It's a pity—they lend so much color to a conversation. I studied them on a site devoted to speech in old times, but I must have missed this one."

She smiled at his child-like excitement, and then sobered as she thought of his accusation. "What proof do you have against Alec? And if he wanted to stop me at the last minute, why did he encourage me all these years? Hell, he even fought on my behalf so that I would continue getting the funds required for my numerous experiments! Most of the board members were against it because they didn't believe I was going anywhere with my 'so-called' research."

Edward nodded slowly and sighed. "Yes, I can see why you can't believe me. My statement goes against everything you have experienced until now. But Isabella, there's nothing I can get you as proof that will change your opinion. As for how I know of Alec's deeds, I was not happy with many things in my world, and I started looking for the incidents that were responsible for these things. After years of research, I uncovered certain facts that… Isabella, it is not possible to explain all that without your _being_ there. Please, trust me on this."

He could probably see her resolve weakening, for he persisted eagerly. "You asked what would happen if I just imprisoned you in some contraption, right? Well, there's nothing like a vehicle or a cell to get in—you will be able to decide where you want to go, okay?" He fished a watch out of his pocket and handed it to her. Isabella's eyebrows rose in a query. The thing looked too simplistic to take her across an hour, never mind years. Edward answered her unvoiced question, of course.

"Why should it look flashy, or even complicated? I deliberately chose this design so that nobody would suspect my intentions. Like you, I have not as yet gone public with my invention. Anyway, you can set the year, the month, the date and the time yourself, and come back whenever you wish to. It's the same with the location. Now will you come with me?"

Isabella put on the watch absently on her wrist, and the metallic strap locked itself with a faint click. She tried to unlock it, but it would not budge from its position on her wrist. She looked at Edward questioningly.

"So that it might not fall off your wrist accidently, or even if somebody tries to snatch it," he explained. Then he took her hand and turned it palm upwards, and showed how to unlock the watch. The unexpected touch affected her like a tiny jolt of electricity, making her snatch her hand away and rub it against her shirt to subdue the sensation. When she glanced at Edward, he looked as surprised as she did.

"That was weird," both of them said at the same time, and then laughed awkwardly.

"All right," she stated, returning to a more serious mood. "I believe you. So where do we go first?"

A blinding smile preceded his answer. "Hmm, there is so much I would like you to see. Of course I could take you straight to my place and show you the proof, but it would be better if you get the general idea first." He nodded to himself, making up his mind. "Let's go to New York—PH, and keep the date and month the same, only changing the year, okay?"

They set their watches, and Edward took her hand, explaining that it would make sure they landed in the same place. Exactly thirty seconds later, they disappeared from the small, functional room.

-TFoF-

Isabella had closed her eyes at the sensation of a free fall—she had never enjoyed riding the Giant Wheel at the fair for this very reason. Then a warmth enveloped her, making her heart calm down. When she felt her feet touch firm ground and opened her eyes, she was not wholly surprised to find Edward's arms wrapped around her and hers around him, with her face hidden in his chest. What did surprise her was how nice it felt, and how reluctant she was to let go of him. But then her brain reverted back to its rational state, and she raised her head and looked at him sheepishly.

He seemed to be somewhat dazed too, his long eyelashes sweeping his cheek before lifting up. His hand rubbed her back in a comforting way before letting go.

"Look around, Isabella," he murmured, his tone sad. "See the future you have unintentionally helped to create."

She tore her eyes away from his and gave herself a mental shake. What was she doing—letting herself be mesmerized by him? He was just a man!

She slowly turned around; looking and assimilating everything she looked at. At the first sight, it looked just like another slum area, such as she had already seen in many cities in her time. They had landed on a kind of hillock, with some sparse scrub and bush growing around. It gave her a good view of the cluster of tiny, broken-down houses around, and she sighed with disappointment. The world had not succeeded in eradicating poverty in fifty one years—that much was evident. The filthy streets, the overflowing garbage dumps and the stench rising from several sources was familiar enough. She could not imagine why Edward had chosen to bring her here, or why he held her partially responsible for the miserable conditions around them.

"I don't understand," she said, frowning as she turned back to him. "I am sorry things haven't improved any, but how is this any different from the situation in my time?"

He shook his head slightly as his lips curled just a bit. It was not a pleasant expression.

"Look again. Isn't there something wrong with the picture in front of you? Or rather, isn't there something missing here?"

She looked again, comparing the scenario to what she had seen half a century ago. Yes, the filth would be there, and so would the stink, and people in shabby clothes walking around and gossiping, and children playing and bickering in the narrow streets…

"Wait," she asked, pirouetting back to him suddenly as something occurred to her. "Why is it so quiet? And where are the people who live here? Has it been abandoned?" Her face became hopeful. Perhaps they had been shifted to better living quarters. Perhaps this place had been kept as an example of what the past had been like. However, the sympathetic look on Edward's face squashed her hopes in an instant.

"Come on, I will show you the reason."

He took her hand lightly and helped her descend the hillock. They entered a street which, like all other streets, lay silent and stinking. However, now that they were closer to the ramshackle houses, Isabella could detect faint sounds from within—mostly sighs and groans, broken by a few words of complaint. Edward stopped outside the third house on their right, gave her a look as if asking if she was ready, and then knocked on the door twice.

A light pattering of feet was heard, and then the door was opened inward by a sprite. At least, that was the impression Isabella got at first. The thin, angelic-looking child who had answered the door smiled an equally angelic smile and stretched her arms towards Edward immediately. Disregarding her dirty clothes and sooty arms, he picked her up and swung her around once, prompting a squeal of delight.

"Edward," came a soft voice from somewhere within, and a small light flickered on, dispelling the gloomy darkness to a certain extent. As her eyes adjusted themselves to the change, Isabella spied a frail woman lying on a bed against the wall across them. "Is that you, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart? The term of endearment gave Bella an unexpected pang in her heart.

With the child still in his arms, Edward moved forward, nodding to Isabella to follow him. When she reached the woman, she could make out that her features were a grown-up version of the child, except that her eyes were screwed shut as in intolerable pain. And yet her lips smiled! She looked up at Edward, utterly puzzled.

"Of course it is I, Jess dear," he answered in as cheerful a voice as possible, adding, "unless you have adopted another brother? And how are you today? I see you have done some knitting for the exhibition."

Isabella followed the direction of Edward's chin and saw a small pile of something woollen on the side table on which a lamp—the only source of light in the room—was also placed. The pile was just beyond the small circle of light, making it difficult to distinguish the colors used, let alone the design. Edward's tone and expression however clearly stated that he was proud of the woman's work, whatever it was. She—Jess, Isabella reminded herself—smiled shyly.

"Did I get the colors right though?" she asked, seeking approval. "I asked Alice to help me, you know, but sometimes she gets confused with different shades."

Alice? Isabella was struck dumb with the coincidence. What were the chances of the first person she met after making a jump into the future having the same name as her best friend? The friend whose death had prompted all her research—the research Edward claimed was responsible for the misery surrounding them right now? If she had not been such a rational woman, she would have imagined this to be a set-up to make her feel guilty. However, she was sure that Edward knew nothing about _her_ Alice.

"I do not get confused," announced the child—Alice—in a clear treble. Her little pout was adorable. "Edward, I know my colors, and I helped mom choose the right ones. Let me show you—this scarf has your eyes in it."

She squirmed until he let her down, and Jess gave a wry smile. "Oh Alice, that was a secret! You were not supposed to tell Edward before it was all done, you know."

Alice made an 'oops' face. "Sorry Momma, I forgot it was a surprise. Now what will you give him on his birthday?"

Jess shrugged, but Edward saved the situation by suggesting it could still be a surprise since he had not actually seen his present yet. "And my eyes could be like anything," he carried on, making them laugh, "maybe your mom has made them like a lady-bug, or a cloud, or a daisy…"

Alice giggled prettily, and a light chuckle escaped Isabella's lips at Edward's attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Both Alice and Jess turned to her at the sound, though Alice must have seen her before. She figured the child had been too busy giving Edward her whole attention before, with Isabella being a secondary presence.

"Is there someone with you, Edward?" asked Jess, trying to straighten her blouse and pulling up the covers awkwardly. Isabella noticed then her claw-like hands, made stiff with either a disease or deficiency. She wondered how the woman managed to go through her day, let alone knit something. Edward's pride in her work suddenly made much more sense to her. She shuddered inwardly at the life the mother and daughter were leading in the grimy hovel.

"Um, yes, this is my—friend, Doctor Isabella Swan. She is a scientist too," Edward said hastily. "She wants to help any way she can, so I brought her here. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," replied Jess while Alice just stared at Isabella, her hands twitching at her sides as if wanting to touch her. "Any friend of yours is always welcome here. But Edward, you should have introduced her sooner. Your manners are getting worse day by day, having no contact with people of your own kind. You need to go out with your friends more."

Edward's grimace conveyed his distaste quite clearly, but of course Jess could not see it, and Alice was still busy watching Isabella. "Jess," he sighed, "you _know_ I want to be here. You also know I don't have any friends over there." Isabella wondered where _there_ was. "As for Isabella, she is not from our time, but one when human beings were more…equal."

Isabella wanted to know what kind of equality he was speaking of, but something told her it would be better to hold her tongue for now.

"She is very pretty," piped up little Alice. "Is she your girl-friend?"

The innocent question startled Isabella. Of course she wasn't Edward's girlfriend, but…she wondered what it would be like—to know him more intimately. She could feel a long-forgotten blush creeping up her cheeks.

Edward of course shook his head without even glancing at her. "No sweetie, she is just a friend. And yes, she is very pretty. I noticed that as soon as I saw her the first time."

"You did?" Great! Now she had lost her filter too.

"Of course," he looked at her and smiled softly. "You looked a little tired, but very relaxed, as if you had a great burden off your shoulders. I was fascinated; I just watched you for a few minutes before I could remind myself that I was there for a specific purpose."

Isabella angled her head towards him, her forehead wrinkled in thought. "I was just sleeping. What was fascinating about that? Surely you have seen people sleeping before?"

A corner of his mouth lifted up slightly. "As a matter of fact, I haven't—not like you, anyway." Before she could ask him to clarify, he turned back to Jess with a small frown. "Jess, you know I love it that you are making something for me, but then when will you have time for knitting something for the exhibition? There's not much time left."

Jess looked slightly guilty. "I know: I just wanted to make something to keep you warm during the winter. You do so much for us, Edward, you and the other Cullens."

"Oh well, we, and others like us, are the ones who are responsible for your condition," he answered bitterly. "This is the least we can do to redeem ourselves, so please don't make a big deal of it."

"But Edward," Jess argued energetically, "how can this be your fault? It is God's will that we are born like this, or perhaps the result of our actions in our past births—"

"We have had this argument a hundred times, Jess," said Edward patiently, but his expression hardened. "What is happening is not fair to any of you, and God is not as unkind as you believe him to be. This is all man's fault, and I won't rest until everything has changed for the better. Now Alice, did you go to the church today?"

Alice nodded happily. "I did, and Esme told me I was a bright girl! She did not let me play with the other kids though." And the adorable pout was back. Isabella smiled, and so did Edward, although his smile was not a happy one.

"You know why, sweetie," he tried to pacify the child. "It's not good for your heart, right? You have to take care of it so you grow up big and strong."

She had a heart problem? Isabella felt her own heart breaking for the little girl.

Alice began to say something, but Edward suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry to leave. Isabella could not help reflecting that the lack of manners was more likely to transfer from _him_ to the other two rather than otherwise. With a quick goodbye and a promise to see them soon, he whisked Isabella out of the little house and into the twilight. She noticed that the lamp inside was switched off even as the door shut behind them.

"Edward," she asked, bursting with curiosity but dreading the answer, "what was all that?"

He remained silent for a moment as they wandered aimlessly, slowly. "That, Isabella," he said with a heavy sigh, "is the reality of our world—a reality the privileged lot would like to forget. I know you need more details, but you also need to know the whole of the story. Let's meet a few more people here, and then I will take you to the other side."

"Just one question," she requested, and he inclined his head. "Why did they extinguish the light as soon as we left?"

"Hmm, there's no electricity in this area," he answered reluctantly. "We have provided them with these battery lights, but they are so scared that they will run out of power that they seldom use them. As you saw, Jess can't see, so it doesn't matter to her whether it is light or dark, and Alice is used to play in the semi-darkness. Our visit was a special enough to switch on the lamp, but when we left…There's not much to do, anyway. They go to bed early."

"And there's no one else to look after them?"

"Mike, her husband, died of food poisoning, two years ago, and their parents on both sides much earlier. Life expectancy is low here. Now, shall we?"

She nodded, and let him take her inside a couple more houses. It only made their first visit look more cheerful by comparison. The second house was occupied by a couple named Randall and Mary. They were only in their twenties, but already dying of bone and blood cancer respectively, due to various genetic conditions. The third had a young man who had buried his wife recently and was trying to look after their infant son who had been born without a lung. The man himself had none of his toes, which made his task all the more difficult. Isabella began to feel she had been touring some part of Hell, full of melancholy and completely devoid of hope. When Edward led her to a small building with the sign of the cross at the end of the street, she looked at him questioningly.

"This is the church I was talking about with Alice," he explained as they reached the main door. He opened it without knocking and hollered, making Isabella jump, "Hey Carlisle, you still there?"

There was an answering shout from within, and a man, a few years older to Edward perhaps, emerged, followed by a woman. They were both as perfect-looking as Edward, with flawless skin, even features and a carriage that screamed confidence. However, their expressions clearly stated that they were worried, if not upset, over something.

Edward did the introductions without any promptings this time, and Esme nodded as both of them looked at Isabella with great interest. "Yes, I thought there was something different about you. You are beautiful, but natural, unlike us."

"Unlike you? What do you mean by that?" asked Isabella, perplexed. She had had enough of hints and clues—she wanted a few straight answers, and she wanted them now.

Carlisle looked shocked. "You haven't told her about us?" he asked Edward, who shook his head.

"I thought she should see some…things before being given the information. That will make it easier for her to assimilate all the facts and theories, and decide what course of action to follow."

"I think she has seen enough, Edward," remarked Esme gently. "Now you should explain everything to her before you show her more of this world."

"You are right," Edward agreed. There were two stone benches facing each-other on the patch of greying grass in front of the church, and they sat there. "I will tell you what I know, and then you can ask any questions you have. Is that okay?"

When she nodded, Edward began with some personal information. He had been born to wealthy parents, Edward Masen Sr. and Elizabeth, and his childhood was a privileged one. He had lacked for nothing, played with Rose—his sister who was four years younger to him—as a child and been adored by his parents and grandparents. They had attended the best school in the city, and gone on to the best university in the country.

"I am ashamed to say that until then I had not even thought about how the other half lived in our world," he confessed, lips tight and eyes closing for a second. "It was so easy to be in that bubble, you know—no illness, no dearth of money and all the things it could buy, only beauty and happiness and good times with family and friends. It was an ideal life, as long as one ignored the existence of those miserable creatures we termed humans but refused to treat like one. Frankly, they hardly ever imposed on the periphery of my consciousness. The books I had read while in school taught me that this was how the world was supposed to be, and the people who lived in the PH deserved to be there. It was their problem, not ours." He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"Um, what is this PH? I wondered about it before too," Isabella asked before he could continue his tale.

Carlisle answered her, his face twisting in an expression of distaste. "Poor House—I hate the term."

"Oh." She did not know what else to say.

Esme patted her hand sympathetically. "It is what it is, Isabella. We are trying to make their life better, but we have so little to go on—people just don't care. So there are few who contribute to our cause."

Edward snorted. "Until I met them," he said, nodding towards the couple in front of them, "I didn't either. They changed the way I thought; they changed my life. I will forever be indebted to them."

Carlisle shook his head. "None of that, Edward. It wasn't your fault that you were born and brought up in a certain way. At least you understood our message. How many of your batch-mates can claim that?"

"They were—still are, actually—professors at my college, Carlisle for Abstract Physics and Esme for Genetic Engineering. At the end of my first year, I watched a documentary they had made, together with some seniors from the Visual Media group. It portrayed the true condition of the unnoticed and the helpless—it was like a slap in my face. After that, I was after them to know more, and try to gather information for myself. And the more I knew, the clearer it became that the books that had been fed to us as children and teenagers were full of lies."

"What sort of lies?" Isabella asked in a whisper, her throat drying with an unknown terror.

"The people you met just now—they are just the tip of the iceberg, Isabella. Each and every person who lives in the PH section of New York, or any city of this world, suffers from some sort of genetic malformation or discrepancy. And this is not a coincidence, I assure you. No, this is the result of a very deliberate offensive launched against the poor. The Super Wealthy, or the SW as they are called—wish to eradicate poverty by eradicating the poor."

Isabella shivered, feeling as if the Arctic breeze had touched her. "What does this has to do with genes?" she asked, hoping that she was wrong. Could man really be that manipulative and cruel?

Esme answered her this time. "Half a century ago, a major breakthrough was made in the field of genetics, by a scientist from The Lab. Not only was he successful in separating the gene for causing any kind of malformation in the human body, but also in modifying it to the great advantage of humanity. Well," she amended her statement, "to the people who could afford to take the advantage, at least. The rest were not important. From then onwards, the distinction between the two sections only became greater. The wealthy could choose the genes they wanted for their children, like one would choose favorite items from a smorgasbord. After a few years The Lab had another success—they came up with live manipulation of genes. Guess who rushed to have their insides and outsides perfected, and who was left behind in the race?"

Isabella's mind reeled with this news, even though it was not completely unexpected. But then, something nudged at her mind, causing her to frown and think back. "Did you say _he_ was successful in separating and modifying the gene? A man did that?"

Esme looked confused. "Yes, I think his name was Alec Marsh. He was the director of the institute, wasn't he Carlisle?"

At Carlisle's nod, Isabella turned to Edward, completely confused. "I don't understand—how did Alec—"

Edward raised an eyebrow, and she recalled his words while they were in her office. _He is going to prevent you from speaking at the press conference—by getting you killed if required to shut you up._ Goosebumps rose on her arms, and her shudder was much more visible this time. Edward's arm was immediately around her shoulders, but even its warmth could not prevent the cold that settled inside her.

"Does that mean he really did it?" she asked, her voice so low even Edward had to bend towards her to understand the question. He nodded once, his eyes full of pain even he could not understand. Yes, saving Isabella was important for the future of mankind, but the few hours he had spent with her were making him feel that she was important to him in other ways too: he suddenly wanted to keep her away from any harm and as close as possible to him.

"And he took all the credit, just like that?" She was close to tears. The one man beside her father she had looked up to had chosen to get her killed while making a show of supporting her wholeheartedly all through her career. She could not believe it when Edward had warned her earlier, but Esme's words clearly stated that he had been right.

Esme and Carlisle, who had by then understood the implication of Isabella's questions and Edward's reactions, looked horrified.

"Well, it is not a hundred percent clear exactly how he managed that," explained Edward, squeezing her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. Although, he wondered, how _did_ you comfort someone who was sentenced to death for having dedicated her life to improve the lot of mankind? "When I tried to sift through the information I had, your name was nowhere. And I had no reason to suspect Alec at that time. It was only when I began to dig up all the old records that I came across statements that did not match. On the one hand, your manager had declared that you were almost ready to unveil your discovery to the public, and the media speculations supported her. Even speculations have _some_ basis in truth. Then there was the news of your sudden disappearance from The Lab and Alec's comment that you had run away because you could not bear the disappointment of failure in your experiments. Even more than that were the statements of your parents and school friends—how determined you were to succeed, how brilliant you always had been at research, and how you wanted to help people. It just did not gel with running away, you know? And then, a year later Alec announced that he had been conducting experiments on his own for quite some time and had finally succeeded! I could not believe it. Of course there were no records of your experiments, so I could not prove anything, but the way Alec chose to use his 'discovery' made me very suspicious. The only way I could find out the truth was, however, to meet you face-to-face."

"And for that he had to wait for years," added Carlisle in his soft, cultured tone. "Edward was always brilliant at the time-space quantum, and he put years in perfecting the process of travelling back and forth in time. It had already started, so nobody paid too much attention to his experiments. His ultimate aim was to go back to the exact time and place required to change everything. However, he never told us the whole story."

"It could have been dangerous for you," said Edward. "And I was not even sure _what_ I was looking for—what would help me write a different history." He continued uncertainly as he glanced at Isabella. "I still don't know what's going to happen here. It is Isabella's decision, after all."

Isabella rubbed her temples as a headache began to build. "What if I go back and actually run away from The Lab, to a safe place? I could declare my results independently…" Even as she said it, she began to doubt her non-plan. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be that easy."

"I could help you go further back in the past, when you were safe, but we have no idea what would happen then. The only point where we can actually change the future is the night when you completed your research but had not declared the results," he murmured, almost thinking aloud.

"I don't understand why the poor ended up with so many genetic problems though," she wondered, thinking back to her visits and trying to understand more. "Okay, so the wealthy got the super-gene or something like it, but why did the poor lose so badly?"

"Hmm, I have a theory that somehow, they were deliberately given a rogue gene," mused Edward, his forefinger rubbing his chin. "It can't be proved of course, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me. They couldn't be killed outright, so they were put in a situation where they would not live long anyway."

"But most of them can still be treated—Alice, for example. Why don't they go to the appropriate hospitals?"

"There are no hospitals—they don't exist anymore, Isabella," supplied Esme kindly. "There are only Gene Centers, which the poor cannot afford, obviously. These centrers have turned the rich into demi-gods, so they don't need health care. They have perfect looks and skin, never fall ill, and are strong enough to survive accidents on their own. They are increasing their life span day-by-day, so they are quite close to achieving immortality. If they wish to play the piano like a master, they get a gene for that. It's the same for writing like Shakespeare or painting like Picasso. They are the designer people, Isabella."

"And what about the Law? Doesn't it give them any rights? What about the President—why doesn't he do something?"

Carlisle shook his head. "Democracy, as it used to exist, no longer does. All the powerful nations have a council to rule them. And guess who the members of the council are?"

"Oh." Many remarks of Edward began to make sense. "Is that why you said I was 'natural'?"

"Yes," Esme replied. "I wish I was too, but my parents had already chosen my fate. What could be better than a designer baby, perfect in every way?"

"And that is why I watched you sleep," added Edward softly, "because none of us really need to sleep. It is an optional thing, but most people choose to spend their nights in more…pleasurable activities." His cheeks turned pink, to Isabella's surprise. Then it clicked, and her cheeks matched his.

Thankfully Edward chose to ask Esme and Carlisle the reason for their being worried earlier, thus avoiding a potentially awkward situation. They explained that the Black Foundation had refused to renew the grant they had offered the Cullens last year, thus postponing many of their projects indefinitely. Edward drummed his fingers on his thighs in frustration.

"What is their reason?"

"They want to open another Gene Center instead," said Esme through clenched teeth. "But you know Edward, Jacob Black always listens to his wife. Just butter up Leah a bit and we will have the money in a jiffy."

Edward looked remarkable unhappy at the prospect. "I will try, but you know I hate that woman, Esme. She practically molested me on the dance floor at the last year's Charity Ball. I did not tell you this because it was very embarrassing, but she also propositioned me, offering to double the grant we were going to receive."

Both Esme and Carlisle gasped with indignation, but Isabella felt a surge of fury within. If she even crossed this Leah creature, she was going to scratch her eyes out for looking at Edward in that way. The next moment she berated herself. Why was she feeling so possessive over him?

Esme gave her a speculative look and suggested to Edward that he showed Isabella his home to 'complete the picture'. "And by that I mean your country home, not your cramped quarters at the research center you work in," she emphasized. Edward was clearly puzzled, but he said he would be glad to. Before they left, Isabella had one more question. She wanted to know if there was a middle class somewhere between the SW and the PH. All three looked amused at this, but explained that because of the huge disadvantage, the poor could not possible rise. That left a very small section of people like the Cullens, and Edward, who were born rich but had chosen to serve the needy while keeping their day jobs. However, unlike the middle class in the earlier times, this one wielded no power to change the society. Not yet, anyway.

They said their goodbyes, and then Edward asked Isabella to set her watch and take his hand, and the next moment Isabella was opening her eyes in the most beautiful country mansion she had ever seen. Edward showed her around, explaining that though his parents had given it to him; he could not sell it or use it for any other purpose than residing himself.

"They knew I would sell it before they could blink, or turn it into a shelter for the homeless, or a hospital—if this condition wasn't in place. They hope one day I will come to my senses and see that they had been right all along," he remarked as Isabella admired the view from the French windows of the spacious living room. There was a picture-perfect lawn, stretching out to meet a wood, and a quiet stream running through it. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, and she realized with a start that she had not seen the day sky for a very long time, perhaps months, because of her obsession with her work. Suddenly she felt very, very tired.

"What is it, Isabella?" He was right behind her, and she leaned back into him and closed her eyes. His arms snaked around her.

"I want to tell you about Alice."

When she had explained everything, he remained quiet for a moment, trying to choose his words.

"Isabella, as I said before, I could have deleted your work myself, but I would never do that. In this society, where people have taken away other people's choice to lead their life gainfully—to just be what they want to—I have understood how important it is to have a choice. You have seen everything now. It is your decision: if you want to go back in some other year, I will help you. If you want to make a run with your work and take a chance against Alec, that's okay too. The future is uncertain anyway, so _you_ don't have to feel guilty for your choice. All I know is—now that I have met you, I can't let you go. You have become so important to me." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Isabella, I know you are trying to make a crucial decision here. All I want to know is—can I be a part of that decision?"

What could she say? What was the right thing to do? Had she been working for years only to lead to _this_? She closed her eyes and tried to decide rationally. Yes, she had worked very hard, given up her life to research. Yes, she had done this so that no other child had to suffer as Alice had. But it had not turned out to be what she had imagined, had it? No, it had only made things worse and people more unequal. At least in her present people had a chance to improve their lot, if only they had the will to do it. But in this future? Here the unprivileged had been relegated to a living hell, with no means to come out of it. All they could do was suffer, and wait to die.

She sighed and opened her eyes. When she turned to face Edward, her mind was made up.

"I will do it Edward; I will destroy my work. And…you are important to me too. I will be happy to share my life with you."

"I respect your decision, Isabella. Shall we go back to your office?"

She smiled, a shy smile that sat Edward's heart beating faster. "Shouldn't we seal the deal first?"

He didn't answer in words. He bent his head, she raised herself on tiptoes, and their lips met in a promise. Whatever happened, they would face it together.

-TFoF-

They landed in Isabella's office a moment later, with its sparse furniture and white lights. But as soon as she switched her laptop on, Edward stiffened, listening to something she could not.

"Alec has decided not to wait until the morning," he said urgently as the screen lit up. "He is coming down now, and knowing his intentions, he probably will be armed. Plus, when he finds out that you have destroyed your work, he will never let us live in peace in this time. What do you want to do?"

"Let us grab this and return to your time then," she said, thinking fast. "If it doesn't fall into Alec's hands, the future will change anyway. Then, when we are safe, we can decide what to do with this."

"You won't be able to see your parents or friends though, at least, not any time soon. Alec will definitely have them watched in case you turn up there," he warned, but her mind was made up.

"We will find a way, later on."

They set their watches again. Isabella swung her laptop bag on her shoulders, and Edward wrapped his arms around her even as the door to the office burst open and Alec Marsh marched in. He looked, as Isabella had described earlier, a benevolent-uncle-type of man, except that he carried a sleek-looking gun in his raised hands. As soon as he took in the scene, he fired.

Isabella felt the impact of the bullet on her bag, and imagined her laptop shattering, her work completely gone. Edward let her go for a second, leaping on to Alec and snatching his gun even as a second shot rang out. Isabella screamed, thinking he had been hit, but Edward simply knocked out Alec with his own gun and then turned and smiled at her.

"I knew this hard-as-granite skin would prove to be an asset one day," he commented, making her laugh with heartfelt relief. Then she checked her laptop and found it intact.

"Ooh," she reasoned, "of course, your arms were around me, so…"

"Yes, it hit my hand, so your work is safe. Now let's leave before he comes to."

They set the starting mechanism in motion, held hands, and disappeared once again—this time for ever.


End file.
